


Choosing to Love

by PersephonePenguin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonePenguin/pseuds/PersephonePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold has a very comfortable life. He is wealthy, feared and his son lives just across town. Then he remembers that he is Rumpelstiltskin...and becomes decidedly <i>un</i>comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rumpelstiltskin, over the course of his long life had encountered many feelings. As a weak, snivelling human he was a great connoseur of _fear_. When he became strong he understood the heady rush of power and then the mad joy to be found in revenge. He knew what love felt like, his love for Baelfire was a warm glow that brightened every time he looked on him, and when he lost him...that was when he understood grief. 

 

Many decades later, he became familiar with a different kind of love, one that hit him square in the chest with astonishing force. There was little choice to be had in this kind of love, it was coaxed out of him with every laughing, blue eyed, glance his way and with every gentle kindness that the lady bestowed on an old monster. When she died, he tried very hard to return to his old resigned indifference punctuated by malevolent glee whenever some desperate idiot called his name. It was hard. He'd have the fool cornered and be ready to pounce, but the soft lilting tones of _her_ always filled his head.

_'You're not a monster..._

Simply put, he found himself courting her approbation, even when she had taken his heart to the grave with her.

The Queen, in a roundabout way, and without even realising it, offered him the means to forget her. Of course, it would only be until the saviour arrived, but nearly thirty years of _not_ feeling this tearing agony of loss, sounded so peacefully appealing that he almost began to see what Snow White had been getting at.

It was really just an unfortunate side effect that the entire Enchanted Forest would suffer unhappiness as a result of his peace. Certainly, he _could_ send the Queen packing; but Rumpelstiltskin the coward still lurked within the breast of the Dark One. How could h find the courage to continue on, when her sweet smile haunted him?

He created the curse in the end. Rumpelstiltskin poured every feeling of loneliness, vengeance, hatred and fear into its making. Then, after a flurry of last minute deals he simply _waited_.

Some twenty-eight years on from the moment his curse was activated, Rumpelstiltskin became intimitely familiar with a new set of emotions, ones that had previously passed him by. The name of Emma Swan evoked a cacophany of rich, magical memories. In a single moment he remembered the gaping centuries of his life.

With his memories came certain, deeply disturbing, realisations. 

One; he had his son back. His Bae called him father and lived just across town from him. Such _joy!_ He got into his car as fast as his leg would allow. The memories of seeing him for the past twenty-eight years were not sufficient. He needed to see him this very moment, with his own two eyes.

Two. His Belle lived. A gentle, heart-warming hope, suffused him then, and he gripped the wheel desperately.

The third realisation came as he drove across town to the home of Ben Gold and his wife. Rumpelstiltskin slammed on the brakes. Horror stricken.

 

Bae's wife. Belle. His daughter-in-law. 

He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and took deep, gasping breaths. The Queen had arranged that one beautifully, it was a master stroke. Perhaps one day, when he held her entrails in his hands he'd be able to acknowledge some admiration for such genius. At present, he was busy suppressing the urge to faint. 

There was nothing Regina could have done more, to so completely stump him. He would have willingly torn his love away from _any other man_ , probably maiming the fellow in the process and enjoying it.

But not Bae.

He'd not cause his boy a single moment of suffering, not even when it robbed him of his own True Love. He took an extra five minutes to appreciate the poetic nature of his predicament. In reality, it had always been this choice before him. In the Dark Castle, it had been a choice of accepting Belle's kisses and giving up any possibility of finding his son or; rejecting her as thoroughly as was possible and holding on to the flimsy thread of hope that one day he'd see his Baelfire again.

All he'd done was create a curse that presented him with the same choice once again.  
He wanted to weep at the thought that his little love was so close, yet so far away from him. He would once again act rationally, making the only choice he possibly _could_.

It was not untill he let himself into the warm kitchen of Ben and Arrabella Gold's house, seeing his beloved son with his arm around his wife, that _jealousy_ \-- dark, ugly and utterly overwhelming--rose up in him, robbing him of all rational thought and reason.


	2. Chapter 2

'How very...touching.' He bit out, walking further into the kitchen. It was not quite the smooth drawl that he knew Storybrook was used to hearing, his voice was certainly more of a snarl, judging by the hasty disentanglement of his son and Belle. 

Ben, flushing as much as was natural for a man caught kissing by his father, recovered first. He grinned. 'Dad! We weren't expecting you. Have supper with us, Bella's made up a pot roast.'

The young woman in question busied herself by laying another place at his terse nod. He couldn't do more, his throat was tight and burning. How could it be that he wanted to leap and shout for joy in seeing his son again and at the same time want to yank the woman at his side away from him? 

'Would you like a drink, sir?' He let his eyes drift closed for a moment as he relished the soft sound of her voice. It was a sound he never thought he'd hear again, after Regina came by, spreading her lies. 'Mr. Gold? Are you alright?' His eyes snapped open. She looked politely concerned that her father-in-law might faint in her kitchen, there was no warmth in her gaze.

Ah. She disliked him then. That was interesting. Searching his memories, he supposed that he could see why. He'd been rather rude when his son first announced he wanted to marry her and in recent years had leant rather heavily on her Father to repay the various loans he had taken. Of course, he was a little relieved that his true love hadn't addressed him as 'Dad' too, had she adopted that little local custom, he may have vomited again.

Rumpelstiltskin gritted his teeth, he was going to thoroughly _obliterate_ Regina.

He resorted to the smooth, faintly sinister sarcsam that he'd used daily for twenty eight years. 'I'm well enough, dearie. I'm eager to sample Mrs. Gold's fine food. You must feed my boy adequately, he's blooming.'

Bae laughed, and _there_ was a sound to light up a room. Some things never changed. His voice was deeper, certainly, but the cadence was exactly the same as he remembered it. In spite of the horrible situation, Rumpelstiltskin smiled and sank down into the chair that Belle brought out for him.

Ben spoke. 'I eat very well when Bella cooks. Unfortunately, we are like a pair of star crossed lovers at the moment. We bid each other good morning and good night and head off to our respective shifts. I'm glad I don't have to work so many nights as Bella does though, fighting fires is a bit easier in the daylight.' 

Rumpelstiltskin smiled faintly at Bae's babbling, he watched Belle move around the kitchen gracefully. Her shoulders were stiff and her head bent down, was she generally unhappy then? She put a plate in front of him and Bae, omitting one for herself. 

Ben looked sympathetic. 'Got to go, love?'

Belle leant down to brush her lips against his and Rumpelstiltskin gripped his cane with all his might. 'Yes, it's later than I realised. I have put some food into a box for me. I'll eat when I get to work. I have to sort out next weeks cleaning rotas. Make sure you have some vegetables with your dinner, not just meat, Ben. I'll see you in the morning.' Another kiss, during which Rumpelstiltskins fingers clenched around his knife this time, and a polite smile for her guest. 'Good evening, Mr. Gold.' Then, she was gone in a flurry of activity, without even reaching for her coat.

They ate in silence. Ben was busy loading potatoes onto his plate, like he'd never had a decent meal in his life and Rumpelstiltskin's heart and mind were too full-- too fragile to make ordinary conversation.

It was so _wrong_. If anything, Belle should have been his son's _mother_. Clearly, at the moment she was more mother than wife to him. She cleaned and cooked and chided him to eat healthier foods. Her sweet smiles and kisses should have been for _him_ and only him. 

A tornado had whipped up in his head. He didn't know what to think or do, and it was clear that _something_ must be done. When he'd walked in on them kissing, he'd felt hot rage rear up in him. He'd wanted to hurt _Bae_ , his boy, who he'd never raised a hand to in his life, even when the Dark One took up residency. Then, because of that, he'd wanted to wrest Belle away from him and possibly throttle her...or kiss her. He didn't know. How could he ever kiss her again? Even if she wanted him to. It was unnatural to go where his son had been welcomed.

He pushed his plate away and mumbled his excuses to Bae. He was unable to resist laying a fatherly hand on that beloved shoulder. His brave boy. A firefighter, well, that made sense. It was just like Bae to risk his own neck to help others. 

He see this curse broken. It was the only possible way this tangled mess might be sorted out. Rumpelstiltskin would put all of his cunning and energy into getting Snow Whites brat to do her job well. Speaking of whom

'There is a new girl about town, the Mayor's son brought him back with him.'

'Oh yes? Is she pretty?' Ben shot his father a mischevious grin. Rum gripped his cane and poked him in the shoulder with it.

'Not so much as _Mrs. Gold_ , no. Her name is Emma Swan, she is Henry's natural mother.'

Bae, who had stood to refil his plate, yet again, promptly dropped it. 'What? Emma _Swan_ , you say?! Henry's _mother_.' He swore and sat down, heavily.

Rumpelstiltskin raised his brows. 'Why so surprised? You knew that boy wasn't conceived by Regina, all by herself. You know the woman?'

Ben nodded, glumly. 'In Boston. Before...before I met Bella. I thought she... well I was wrong. Don't tell Bella, ok? Ill...have to think. I need to see her, first.'

His Father looked at him hard and nodded. This either simplified or complicated matters prodigiously. He suspected the latter. Rumpelstitskin was sad to note that there was a little of the devious coward in his son after all, why else would he choose to decieve his wife about another woman? Rumpelstiltskin wasn't a hypocrite. He wasn't going to counsel his son to do the brave thing and tell his wife about whatever past he had with Miss Swan, the fact that discord in their marraige might provide a ray of hope for Rumpelstiltskin once the curse was broken, could not be dismissed. 

He grimaced. If he was to gain his own, his son's and his True Love's happiness it was going to take some thinking about. It seemed impossible, but then wasn't everything impossible in this land without magic? 

Reconnosance was required. He could not plot unless he had all the pertinant information at hand. If there was one thing he had available as Mr. Gold, it was resources.

As he drove home to his empty house his mind whirled. The curse must be broken and smashed to smithereens. Regina had to die, it was inconceivable that she should be allowed to live. Not after lying to him so cruelly. Bae must, above all things, have a happy ending and Belle must, eventually, offer her heart to him again.

It seemed that his own poor, shrivelled heart might not survive this battlefield. He was a veteren of many, many wars and he knew that the best strategies required the delicate manouverings of a master, a subtle player who would not tip his hand too soon.   
He was Rumpelstiltskin, had it been someone elses connundrum, he would have gleefully revelled in it, but it was not. 

The night waned on and he continued to think and ponder. The inevitable, unavoidable conclusion that he arrived at was that his precious, brave Belle was going to have to have her heart broken a second time.

She would surely think him a monster after this.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, bleary eyed and sipping away at his fourth cup of bitterly strong coffee, Rumpelstiltskin was on the phone to Fletcher, his general dogsbody who took care of whatever it was that needed doing. The burly giant also doubled as a body guard, and wasn't too bothered about getting his hands dirty when Gold's business, occaisionally, got unpleasant.

_'Sir?'_ He said croakily. _'It's six o clock in the morning'_

Rumpelstiltskin scowled at the phone in his hand. 'Yes, dearie. A brand new day, no need to waste precious time abed with the dear Mother Superior...you need to get this job done by the end of the day, Fletchy.' He smirked slightly at the pair of muffled gasps he heard from the other end, he was not in an easily amused mood by any stretch of the imagiation, but the thought of the blue fairy romantically involved with Fletcher really did amuse him. He would be calling Fletcher in the middle of the night more often, if only to annoy Rheul Gorm. He paused for effect before softly continuing. 'Two files filled with every possible fact about Emma Swan and Mrs. Gold, Fletcher. I want them on my front door mat by the time I get home.'

He waited for Fletchers surprised, 'Yes, Mr. Gold,' and hung up with a soft click. 

Rumpelstilstkin had a hasty breakfast, finished his coffee and made his way out to the car. The sun was rising, dispelling the grey gloom of the early morning. A still silence had envelloped Storybrooke, the birds were not yet singing and he took a moment to appreciate the peace before breaking it by starting the engine of his cadillac. 

He passed the hospital on the way into town and saw the slight, wearied form of Belle about to begin her trek home. She rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to get them warm. Rumpelstiltskin remembered the pale blue duffle coat hanging in her kitchen and frowned. He did not care to think, too deeply, about his reasons for pulling the car over and rolling down the window.

She looked up, surprised and cautiously wandered over to the car. 'Mr. Gold, you're up early. I've just got off my shift.' Her whole body was tense and wound tight, Rumpelstiltskin didn't think it was entirely due to the cold.

'Hop in, dearie. I'll take you as far as town.' It would only be a five minute journey, but he was set on wringing every drop of bitter enjoyment out of her company for that short time. He would allow himself that much, at least.

She hestitated for a moment and then wiith a murmured, 'Thank you,' climbed in next to him. He drove off in silence, unwilling to break it- not even knowing what he would say if he had. She smelled vaguely of disinfectant, her hands were red and raw. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that she had them clasped in her lap. 

Belle did not bother making small talk with her husbands father, and Rumpelstiltskin was grateful for that. It meant that for five minutes he could imagine that she was the _correct_ Mrs Gold and that he was taking her home with him. It was a pleasant fantasy, he could almost dismiss the heartache that she wasn't--couldn't be--his, and forget that in the next week, depending on those files, he would be turning her life upside down.

Once they stopped, he permitted himself to walk around the car and open the door for her, as she stepped past him he found himself trying to place the elusive scent that she wore in the dark castle. Something sweet and light, he mused, taking the opportunity for a delicate sniff of her hair, under the pretence of clicking the door shut. 

'Have a good day, Mrs Gold.' He murmured, and watched her eyebrows twitch together for an instant, before she responded.

'You too. Thanks for the ride. I'll be able to get Ben to have a decent breakfast, before he heads out.'

He couldn't help but watch her walking down the street in the morning light. He disliked the brassy blonde highlights in her hair, infinitely preffering the rich chestnut he had once known. Then again. Bae liked blondes by the looks of things, he thought with a glower. Perhaps she had dyed her hair to please him.

Business was slow at the pawn brokers shop that day, he did not mind. He watched, unobserved, through the window at the goings on of the little town. He pushed away thoughts of Belle whilst at work, he would save up the memories of her next to him for later, as a treat. He might even buy some flowers, to hunt for that elusive scent of hers.

For his lunch break, he bit into a sandwhich whilst thinking dispassionately about the type of death the queen would meet at his hands. Over desert, and yet another cup of coffee he decided that he rather liked the option of strangling her with her own spinal cord, but concluded that it would be tricky to keep her alive long enough to get the thing out. It was a satisfying, if savage, train of thought.

He looked sternly on, as Bae encountered Emma Swan on the sidewalk opposite the shop. Blank astonishment was the best description for _her_ expression, Bae seemed torn between anger and guilt. It was a conflict that he was becoming all too familiar with. The reunion ended with Emma stalking off, clearly distressed, Bae stood for a moment or two- watching her, and Rumpelstiltskin understood that emotion too.

He was exhausted by the time he reached home that evening. The dearth of sleep the night before caught up with him as he climbed the steps to his empty house. 

Fletchy _had_ been busy. Perhaps he was concerned that his boss might expose his scandallous affair with a nun, if he didn't do his job well. It was a fair point.

Emma Swan, it appeared had had something of an unsettled life, it seemed. A veritable list of addresses for her in the last ten years. An orphan, supposedly. Rumpelstiltskin forgave Fletcher for that bit of misinformation, he couldn't really be expected to account for a world destroying curse, after all. It was easier to suppose her abandoned than the daughter of Snow White. He read with particular interest, the details on her life in Boston, during the dates that his son had been there too. It was clear, abundantly clear, that she had become involved with his son at that time. What interested him, was the possibility that her son, was also Bae's. It was not obvious from Fletchers scrawl whether this was the case. A blood test was in order. That would be simple enough to orchestrate. An accidental collision, a grasped peice of hair and it was done.

Whether that made him a grandfather was a point he would consider if and when it came up. Better that Henry Mills be his grandson than any offspring of Belle's. He winced.

Rumpelstiltskin turned his attention to Belle's file. Most of it he knew, she worked long night shifts at the hospital as a cleaner, most of her money went to her father, the florist, who owed considerable sums of money to many people- Gold included. She was a quiet little thing, and at nineteen had apparently been quite bowled over by Ben Rufus Gold, and his considerable charm. It was a rebound romance for Bae, judging by the dates, and he married her within six months, absolutely detirmined that no thought of his Boston romance should intrude. 

In some respects, Rumpelstiltskin's course of action was obvious. Emma Swan must break the curse. He, himself, would threaten, wheedle and browbeat the woman into doing it...preferably soon. It all depended on how open minded she was about the possibility of magic. 

Rumpelstiltskin poured himself a hefty drink and then promptly threw it away again. He needed a clear head. He needed to think. Princess Emma would find herself a veritable marrionette, dancing gracefully to his manipulations. 

He grinned to himself, feeling more like himself than he had for twenty eight years.


End file.
